Don't be deceived by her age or her sizeFor the power within her can reach to the skies.Always the most patient, most thoughtful, mother is she,A role model to us all, not only her three.

She welcomed us into her life and her homeWhere we picked through shared problems with a fine tooth comb.Her hazel brown eyes are as kind as they’re shrewdAnd we love how they twinkle to lighten the mood.

At the school gate, was where I met Amy Blake,And our friendship solidified through knitting and cake.We knitted and chatted though some of life's shocks,She gave me her time; I gave her blue socks.

Not alone, were we, in our love of a sweet treatAnd Cake Club was perfect for Amy and her friends to meet.Her friends rallied too, in crafting her a cover –A wool rich gesture of how much we love her.

And now we are nearing the final goodbyeA heart-breaking notion that brings more than tears to the eye.She's chosen to depart from this world in a boxOur treasured gift Amy, our friend and our rock.

For bravery, love, courage and graceSee Amy now and forever, in our hearts, in her face.

Five months ago, I started my own with KAL, a totally informal – and quite selfishly motivated – project to aid knitting through any existing sock stash that you or I might have. Because I had quite a lot of yarn – and it turns out that I'm not alone. The idea is to knit using sock yarn from my bulging stash using patterns from my existing library. Not rocket science – but really quite satisfying. And huge thanks to those who have joined me - and if you haven't already, you're very welcome to join the fun now.​

​March 1st, aka the Official Start Date of the KAL, saw me cast-on Jane Murison's "Manhole Socks" which were a delight to knit in the Countess Ablaze "Grey Skies in Manchester". Both these were a gift from Jane herself, my most generous and talented sister-in-law, and had constituted the most recent additions to my un-knit sock collection. The KAL timetable allowed two months per pair of socks and I was thrilled to bits to have completed these ahead of schedule, by mid-April, and looked forward with glee to casting on the next pair.

The 1st May saw the joyous cast-on of "Shelby" designed by Rachel Coopey and knitted in her own "Socks Yeah" yarn. This yarn was another precious gift, from my wonderful friend Julie of Suffolk Socks. I have been wanting to knit this pattern for simply ages – ever since "The Knitter" included it as part of their sock pattern supplement many moons ago. Admittedly, I had been going to knit another of Rachel's patterns, "Hulanicki" from Pom Pom Magazine Winter 2015 but, for me Shelby, outshone most other options. So keen was I to knit and wear these socks that I started knitting them two-at-a-time (requiring more than a little concentration to ensure no incorrect placement of the right and left cables) - but then things went kinda awry.

​You know when you make a throw-away comment and then it suddenly turns into a "thing"? And that "thing" requires your immediate and devoted attention? Well that's how the #liquoriceallsortskal started (check Instagram for a flavour of the ongoing work). From innocent comments about liquorice allsorts to full-on research between brands, the quest for multiple blue aniseed jellies (not as common as you might think) to knitting allsort inspired projects. As it happens, my stash could accommodate such a challenge. And thus "Leila's Liquorice Allsorts Socks" were cast on.

"Leila's Socks" is a pattern originally written to accompany a children's story book written by my sister: "Hector Hectricity and the Missing Sock" by Elizabeth Lymer. It was my first sock pattern, written to fit Elizabeth's own feet and has not been graded for different sizes – at least, not yet. The original socks are knitted in rainbow colours so it wasn't too difficult to substitute these for a more allsort appropriate range. However, it was a little tricky finding pleasing places to add some black liquorice stripes – although this was nowhere near as hard as staying away from the actual sweeties! Oh my! I dread to think how many bags I've consumed – and suspect that any next KAL should incorporate a run-along too.

​Liquorice-related knitting (though not the liquorice-related eating) was put on hold while I knitted socks in preparation for June's "Retreat into your Knitting". The knitting focus was knitting socks, two-at-a-time (other focuses being yoga, chocolate brownie and getting in the hot-tub with a glass of fizz) and this was such a treat all round! The same amazing Julie of Suffolk Socks hand-dyed – especially for us – some beautiful, beautiful sock yarn, which she thoughtfully divided into two skeins for our workshop and, rather wonderfully, named "What Katy Did Next". I confess that I was slightly disappointed when all places on the workshop were booked as it meant that I was unable to keep any of the yarn for myself. (Because clearly I need more!)

So while I did knit another pair of socks, these can't count towards the KAL as they used brand-new, un-stashed, straight-to-needles yarn. And do you know? It was such a wonderful feeling casting-on straight after purchase.

After the pressure of designing and knitting the "Ebb and Flow" socks for my retreat day, I was a little "socked out" and, with the large number of sock-projects on the needles, feeling rather over-whelmed: Liquorice Allsort socks, Shelby, Pumpkin Spice, Purl Soho Perfect Fit... This was more than a little disappointing as one of the main aims of the KAL was to prevent such negativity – but this is not an unusual side-effect from my reactive and un-planned cast-ons. Will I ever learn? A little, it seems, for I have (yet) to succumb to the temptation of any new sock yarn, despite the gallant efforts of the "Yarn Tart" (OMG. I might just have to unfollow her IG feed), Pandia's Jewels (have you seen her Pride and Prejudice collection?) and many, many others.​

It's now July and, having just returned from a two-week holiday involving quite a lot of driving (Husband) and quite a lot of knitting (me), I am absolutely delighted to be able to share photos of my COMPLETED "I love you more than Pumpkin Spice Socks". So what if these were started months before I thought of the KAL: These count! And I am so pleased with them (which is quite surprising given the complete lack of blueness). And (and!) after several near wrong-cable-twist-misses, I separated my Shelby socks, which had the upside of allowing one to be finished but the downside of leaving the second sock at home. Thus it languishes in its far-from-complete state. (Along with Purl Soho and Liquorice Allsorts, I know, I know).

Yet, let's not get bogged down. We are, after all, talking about knitting, something that we love. And since 1st March, I have completed three pairs of socks, which ain't terrible. Sticking to the loose rules of the KAL (using stashed yarn, stashed pattern), two of these pairs of socks count (well, at least I'm going to count them), which rather wonderfully means that I'm still on track: two pairs in four months. Finish Shelby before 1st September and I'll be dancing, in a rather special pair of socks, no less.

Exciting news! The next luxuriously relaxing day of knitting is on Saturday 10th June where our theme will be learning how to knit socks, two at a time.

We will be following a similar format as before: Our day begins shortly after 8am with yoga under the gazebo (weather permitting). Our practise is led by Jennifer Ainslie from The Core, Dunbar. Jennifer is experienced in teaching Hatha yoga to people with a range of abilities, including complete beginners, and our small group can provide the perfect opportunity for those exploring yoga for the first time.

After a continental-style breakfast (including pastries, yogurt, fresh fruit and tea / coffee / fruit juices), we will head up to the studio to begin knitting. As an extra special treat, our yarn is being hand-dyed by Julie from Suffolk Socks. Especially for our day, Julie is dyeing a pair of 50g skeins for each of us - which will make preparation for cast on that bit easier. If you're unfamiliar with Julie's yarns, then pop over to her website for a flavour of some of her work - and I promise you that colours other than blue will be available!

Our day will then be spent knitting our socks, with breaks for lunch and tea and cake (no doubt the "cake" will take the form of "chocolate brownies") before setting down our needles and enjoying a wallow in the hot tub.

The price of this unique day (£98) includes your hand-dyed, luxury yarn, pattern and handouts; expert workshop tuition; 60 min yoga lesson; hot tubbing; breakfast, lunch and afternoon tea during a full day at Deanfoot (8am - 6pm).

To help ensure that all participants receive plenty of individual attention while they develop their new knitting skills, places will be limited. Your place will be confirmed upon full payment of the fee. This workshop is suitable for those who have knitted socks before (either top down or tow up, magic loop or dpns).

For more information and to book your place, please email me:katherine@knittingwithkatherine.com,

In two days, I can kick-off the knitting for my sock club and I'm really looking forward to it. This is not an original idea, inspired as it is by Joy's own "proper" sock club using some of her gorgeous "The Knitting Goddess" yarns – but unable to justify acquiring yet more sock yarn when I already have a small mountain, I've decided to make my own "club" to guide my sock knitting through the rest of the year.

The format of mine is similar to Joy's in that I'll be introducing a new pair of socks every two months – which shouldn't put me under any extraordinary pressure and could even leave time to work on something else (you’ve gotta love my optimism!). I've loved going through my stash, allocating yarn to patterns – and not forgetting the all important needles (dpns or circular?) and the project bag.

In the build-up to March 1st, I've also found myself solidly working away at existing projects in a way that I probably wouldn't have done otherwise: Without an official project start date, I would have already cast on the next pair of socks but waiting has allowed me to complete my Bressay Dress and my Bendy Arrow Shawl and make progress on my Pumpkin Spice Socks – all of which I'm delighted with.

If this is MUSIC (or even MUSI-KAL!) to your ears (get it?!) and you fancy joining me, please do. You've got two days to match sock yarn to pattern and make yourself a happy wee project bag to start on Wednesday. As please drop me a line as I'd love to hear what your plans are and how progress is going....

Have you seen the new issue of "The Knitter" (#107)? Mine landed on my doorstep over the weekend – an occurrence that is always greeted with excitement. It's usually accompanied by the fantasy of stealing some quiet time amid the hustle and bustle of family life - new magazine and a hot cuppa - to carefully examine the fresh yarn-related offerings. It rarely happens in such a way, yet here we are – and, even better, I have your company too.

I was delighted to read that denim-style cottons are set to be a feature for this year, since I have the gazillion balls of Rowan Handknit Cotton needed to knit Martin Storey's "Alexus", aka "the lace dress", from Rowan Magazine 57. As you know, I'm not a strict follower of fashion – but it is helpful to have a reminder of projects planned, and knitting a dress on 4mm needles will feel quite the treat after the current Fair Isle version on 3.5mm. Please note that this prompt does not meant that "Alexus" had made it onto the list for 2017 – especially with the news (on page 18) of Kim Hargreaves' new collection, "Grace": Hold the needles!!!

Followers of my blog will know that I have been a long-time fan of Kim's work – in fact, it was her cardigan "Sweet" that got be back into knitting. I love her tailored designs – they always seem to fit so well. And I love her association with Rowan: They too, hold a deep place within my heart. Even after discounting all the patterns with belts (though I know it is possible to add shaping of my own), there are still rather a lot of beautiful options: Might I swap Kim's "Glint", from Rowan restyle No. I Kidsilk Haze, for "Barrett"? Hmmm... "Sentiment" is absolutely stunning too – but see how easily distracted I am!

Back to the magazine: I confess that "The Tapestry Collection" didn't grab me, which was particularly surprising since it includes a design from Mary Henderson and I usually love her colour work. The four-page promotion for "the innocent big knit" was completely lost on me: I'm afraid that I'll never be able to look at a hatted smoothie bottle again having listened to the Knit British podcast on the subject (episode 72, I think). Highlights for me include the review of book "People Knitting: A Century of Photographs" and Penelope Hemmingway's article on "Bringing the past to life" – although I did take umbrage at her comment: "Knitting is, on one level, mundane and domestic". I understand how most preserved artefacts were from the higher classes or specific ways of life (e.g. fishing) and so historical knitwear from us, ordinary folk is a rarity. I also appreciate that historically, knitting was essential to clothe and keep warm and was not considered to be the highly valued craft that it is now. We all know that these days, it is much, much cheaper to buy a jumper – even a wool one – from the high street and so would I guess that knitting purely to meet domestic needs within the UK is close to extinct. And while knitting a one-colour, pattern-free jumper for one's broadly shouldered husband may, at times, be considered "mundane", I would be heart-broken to think this a view shared among many knitters too much of the time. Because our time is precious, and none of us have enough of it to be bored or uninspired by our craft.

You'll note that I've not said that I'm going to knit any of the featured projects – a fact that might lead some to question the need for my continuing subscription (Husband: Don't even go there). However, this does not erode my pleasure – in fact, it can be quite a relief not to fight the temptation to abandon my current WIP for something new. And besides, I'm still in love with Helen Ardley's patchwork blanket from issue 106. That said, the one item missing for me is a light-hearted, chatty last page account from an enthusiastic, personable knitter. The "Meet the Team" is OK, but I find it very formal; it would be nice to end on a smile.

Speaking of smiles, I borrowed "Weekend Knitting" by Melanie Falick, published in 2003, from my local, bricks and mortar library while returning a too-creepy-to-listen-to audio book (after the first CD, I stopped listening; it was clearly well written and the character introduction was brilliant – and when I described it to Husband, he said it sounded a bit like the film "Psycho". Not seen it; don't even want to, nuff said). I love the idea of projects that can be knitted quickly, like over a weekend, and having achieved a couple myself, I'm always interested in discovering more.

Melanie had me at her introduction, a brief description of the journey from knitting and purling, to the whole process and how it enhances the way we live. I love her instructions on how to take a bath and give a hand massage, her suggestions for "A Knitting Film Festival" (anyone up for it?) and a list of books that mention knitting, recipes for butter cookies and hot chocolate and love, love, love her idea for "guest knitting" – not just the notion but the preparation, display and own benefits. The photography is beautiful, the notes comprehensive and there are a lot of patterns that I would like to knit (colour work, lace, texture, brioche; garments, socks and accessories for home and men, women and children). The mobile library will be visiting on Thursday and I have no plans to return it so quickly – in fact, any interested knitters in the Scottish Borders are probably going to have to put in a library request!

It's still January, and it's been a while since we last spoke, so please allow me to wish you a very Happy New Year. How are you?

Perhaps, like you, I find this a good time of year to reflect and plan – not only the obvious about eliminating winter excesses and getting fitter, but other goals that delve deeper into the core of Katherine. And besides my family and friends, what could be closer to my heart than yarn?

I'm probably fulfilling another cliche but, since turning 40, I have experienced a bit of a turnaround in my perception of stash, stuff and a whole lot of other surplus that seem to junk up my life. These feelings were further consolidated during our recent trip to Australia by a wonderful 24 days spent in a motor home and another 7 days in a very elegant, but very well organised holiday house. In none of these scenarios did any of us do without (there were plenty of books, Lego and wool), but in the absence of "too much", I felt freed – both in my mind and the time not spent moving / tidying it all away. And it's an ethic that I'm hanging on to and applying to our real life here, at home.

Please don’t misunderstand me: I am still the sentimental ol' wot-sit that you have known – and I'm married to a man who is more badly afflicted than I am (when I suggested that we lose the boys' first pairs of shoes, he was genuinely affronted). So we're never going to have a completely minimalist lifestyle and I'm OK with that. Big Ted, the originally named teddy that was given to me at birth, will always, always have a place in my home as well as my heart. But this doesn't stop me trying to be sensible about evaluating what we do have and being careful about the acquiring any new.

Top of the list for me, is yarn. What is it we say: SABLE – Stash Acquired Beyond Life Expectancy? Perhaps I am deluded, but I don't believe that I have reached this point – working on the theory that, despite being 40, I have not yet reached my "mid-life" and given that the yarn in my stash has all been bought with a defined project in mind, it is entirely manageable. (Like I said, not deluded at all.) But I can't afford to be complacent. And I certainly don't need any more yarn – actually, truth be told: I don't want any more yarn, at least not at this time.

Like most self-imposed, potentially anti-social life changes, they can be hard to maintain – and temptation is all around us. For example, I am a regular teacher at Kathy's Knits and, as if being in her shop wasn't difficult enough, I am surrounded by other knitters who have an inspirational way of combining colour – and I struggle, I really do. Then there are our beloved yarn festivals and retreats. I'm off to Manchester at the end of next month for one of Joeli's retreats and there will be yarn-buying opportunities there. I find these the hardest – you know, where the person selling the yarn is nearly always the grower, spinner and / or dyer; they’re nearly always very friendly and interesting to talk to; And I really, really don't want to be rude. A possible strategy is to stay away altogether – put some actual distance between me and the yarn. But then I miss out on, what is, for me, the most important part of our craft: The people. And oh, how I do miss you.

But even a withdrawal from all yarn-related venues doesn't provide a concrete solution: I'm painting the kitchen and keeping me company are some of our wonderful knitting-related pod-casters. I don't know why I'm so late to the pod-casting party but here I am, unsuitably dressed and without a needle in sight, but enjoying every minute. My friend Julie, from Suffolk Socks, has started one and I love it! She can be laugh out loud funny and I enjoy her chat about "special K swimming costumes" and chocolate – as well as the yarn. I'm working my way through Louise's – of Knit British - back catalogue and I'm very impressed – delighted too as she's so well established as there's’s lots of paint yet to splash. But this listening pleasure doesn't come without its cost: Temptation.

Did you know that Julie also dyes her own yarn? (Sigh.) And yesterday, I was happily listening to Louise tell us as about Joy's, The Knitting Goddess, sock clubs – the wonderful yarn options, how the patterns were all designed by Clare Devine – and I have to admit, my resolve shook. Despite the huge delay between the airing of the podcast and me hearing it, I jumped off my ladder, abandoned my paint, and checked out the Knitting Goddess's website. Amazingly, there were still yarn club options available. Oooh, I could have yarn and pattern arriving on my doorstep in March – perfectly timed as I'll have finished the dress that I'm knitting. And the sock patterns use different techniques, and I love learning new things. And, and.... Well, sorry Joy, I stopped. I will not be joining sock club this year. Why? Because I already have sock yarn that I really like and is just waiting for the opportunity to reach its full potential. So what I am going to do? I'm going to make my own sock club, out of the projects I already have. (New projects, yarn clubs don't send out WIPs – though maybe there's a market for that? A WIP Swap: I'll send you my unfinished socks / jumper and you send me yours; it'll feel a little like a new project to me and you and, once complete, we send them back to each other. What do you think?)

Each one will have its own project bag (of which I have a few and some haven't had an outing in ages) and I reserve the right to pop a bar of something sweet inside too. I'm really quite excited! Roll on March. And then, maybe next year, I could do a yarn club for real?!

​You will not be in the least surprised to be told that I love knitting. Just love it. But, for me, knitting isn't just about the yarn or pattern, it's about the people: I love knitting with other knitters. Thrive on it. It's a pure pleasure and fills me with a happiness that I find hard to describe. And is why I love teaching my knitting classes and workshops so very much.

In this large and varied knitting world of knitting professionals, it can be difficult to find a place. Before, I was a knitter, pure and simple. I found a pattern I liked, bought yarn that I loved and 'cast on. Admittedly, I'd have often bought another pattern and yet more yarn before the completing the first project, but I fell very much into the "delighted consumer" box, with never any great desire to design: For me, there are more than enough wonderful, perfect even, patterns in existence – and more falling off the needles of our most talented designers all the time – to fill every need and knitting desire that I ever knew that I had, and then some. But then I started teaching knitting professionally.

It was early spring 2011 and Rowan were looking for a new Design Consultant (DC) to work in Jenners in Edinburgh. For various reasons, I had recently resigned from my day job – the job, my Husband, used to remind me, that I had spent my whole adult life training for – and my future was completely unwritten. Yes, we were delighted to have Baby Daniel in our lives, shorty to be joined by his brother Joshua, but that whole 'career' box was open to all sorts of possibilities. Turns out that Rowan were able to tick that box - and I have never looked back.

Those of you who have known me a while know that I never became that DC in Jenners, instead joining Rowan's team of Workshops Tutors. Practically, this not only allowed me to meet my requirement of being able to work around my family but it also made use of my teaching skills. Now I'll be the first to admit that I don't have any formal teaching qualifications but, as so often happens in a university setting, you can end up being involved in a little (or a lot!) of everything – it comes of being part of a team and it's something that I value most highly. So, I've taught MSc classes, supervised PhD students, given tutorials, presented at international conferences and co-organised and worked at public scientific outreach events. I've also written a bit, two theses (one MSc, one PhD), several journal papers as well as internal reports and protocols. None of these are knitting related but point towards the person that I am, or try to be: Thorough, consistent, well-researched and informed - with a passion to share my knowledge and experience. I take my work seriously which, when it comes to all things knitting, is a complete pleasure.

Stand alone knitting teachers though, these seem to be a bit of a rarity. There are lots of designers who teach but how about teachers who just teach? We know designers can often draw a big crowd having nurtured a following through pattern releases and knitting publications. Most of us are interested in the Maker's Story so it can be a big enticement to learn a little more about our favourite designer and perhaps gain some insight into what makes them tick. And as a business model, it makes sense: A known designer is more likely to get bums on seats than an unknown teacher - and bums on seats pay the bills and enable more yarn. But a designer may not necessarily be a good teacher just because s/he excels at crafting their wonderful ideas into yarn and onto paper - so how do we know who is good at this?

Having spent a large part of my life gaining certificates and degrees to help validate my work and career choices, I find it a bit unsettling to have no such paperwork to support my chosen ambition. I realise that it would hardly create the desired atmosphere to stand at the front of my host yarn shop and list off all my relevant formal qualifications at the beginning of every workshop and, in all honestly, I find it very hard to blow my own trumpet. And, as it turns out, people don't seem at all that interested or need the formality: They come for the knitting and that's what we do.

Yet, this idea of validation is something that I seem unwilling to leave. When I ask for feedback at the end of my workshops, it's generally very positive – sometimes so good I find it hard to believe. I appreciate people taking the time to formulate their comments and so perhaps now is a good time to thank them, again, for doing just that. However, I'm not the sort of person to post these publicly – but perhaps I should? Else how are you to know that I'm any good at what I do? Knitting designers create pathways to trust and repeat sales through great design, excellent choice of yarn, clear pattern writing and the appropriate QA (i.e. tech editing and test knitting), but a knitting teacher? Erm... The feedback is helpful and positive affirmation through word of mouth recommendation is highly desirable, and while a tutor might generate a small group of interest folk, there is a limited number of workshops that each knitter wants to / can attend – they don't tend to stash as easily as yarn and patterns!

So, where does this leave me? I have explored the idea of designing my own patterns but these alone don’t interest me (as I've already said, there is a plethora of wonderfulness to choose from). However, I absolutely love designing something new for a specific class or learning point and happily spend hours and hours creating a project that will allow a new skill to be learnt and consolidated – as well as end up being something beautiful. Having been doing this for quite a while, I've got a wee library of my own patterns and, as part of the process of creating new designs for new workshops, have decided to make some of these designs available. The "Om Balance" Yoga Socks is the first of these and, as the others are tweaked and tech edited, they'll be made available too. It's not the most robust of business models but then, I'm not about the patterns: I am teacher.

I'm also a bit of a knitting floosie and happy to travel to yarn shops or other yarn-related venues far and wide: Have motor-home, will travel. Turns out my Personal Liability Insurance pretty much covers me teaching anywhere – though Husband has already vetoed me proffering my services to any Sydney or Melbourne base yarn shop during our planned trip to Australia. Since I always travel with a suitcase of hand-knitted samples, cushions and other niceties to "dress my room", I guess he has a point. But really, can there be many better ways to see the world than on those journeys where meeting new knitters is part of the destination? Each one of us has a story, sometimes many, that we're often more willing to share over working needles and a cuppa. It's a privilege to hear such stories, to be part of such groups, to facilitate learning and ties of friendship that may extend beyond the day's workshop. Such times remind me that it is always, without doubt, an absolute honour to be Katherine, your teacher. Thank you x

The notion of "inspiration" has been on my mind at lot lately. It's a subject that we often hear about as fellow crafty folk and designers share their own knowing that it adds interest and insight to their maker's story. I remember admiring the passing scenery on a late evening car trip and wanted to capture the moment - in wool, of course. I planned how to translate the colours and silhouettes into yarny shape and shade – only to lose interest upon the realisation that actually, I probably wouldn't like the finished shawl as the required colours aren't ones that I wear. Thus "Night's Drive on the M6" has yet to be created – and I'm quite comfortable with the idea that exists only in my head.

Other times, however, I do want to act but can be at a loss as how to. On a recent walk through some woods in the grounds of Paxon House, I was struck by the light on the trees, specifically that flowing through the leaves and highlighting the shapes and textures on the bark of the tree trunks. Not normally a solid green kinda gal, I was surprised at my desire to want to have and wear those shades of green. Not having the greatest experience of knitting shawls, my immediate reaction was to re-knit "Angel in the Making" by East London Knits as it was such a pleasure to knit and I do love wearing it so much. I could even picture one of the yarns as both my sister-in-law and another friend have knitted with "Eden Cottage Yarns" in their "moss" colourway and it produces such stunning stitch definition. As wonderful as the finished shawl would no doubt have been, this isn't how I want to reflect my experience and so I wait to continue this story, and that too is fine.

If I'm honest, most often it's people that inspire me – through their personalities, deeds, creativity, or just being – and recent events have given me much to think about. In my whole life, not just my knitting.

For instance, my youngest brother H has just completed five sporting events in five months to raise funds for Cancer Research, which I think is pretty brilliant in itself until you learn that these included running a marathon, cycling 100 miles and competing in "Spartan Beast" and "Tough Mudder". 'Awesome' doesn’t do him justice. Perhaps unfortunately for him, I hold my little brother in high regard and my expectations are equally high: He is one of the most generous people I know, in time, love and support as well as the rest; he is also one of the fittest people I know. So I confess, when he announced these intentions at the beginning of the year, I was impressed but I wasn't surprised: He is that kind of guy. But he is still my little brother so when he posted photos of his injured self completing the marathon, I could barely suppress my regret at not being there to carry him home. Never mind that such a feet would be physically - let alone logistically - impossible: He will always be my little brother, even as he towers over me. Despite injures, H went on to complete the four additional challenges. I was privileged to be there as he finished "Spartan Beast" and the experience has rocked me in a manner for which I was unprepared: I was – and remain to be – completely in awe of him. He ran 21+km across the Edinburgh Pentlands, completing 30 obstacles 'along the way'. I only saw the last five of these; I do not have the vocabulary to express my admiration and pride in his accomplishments. I saw the exhaustion on his face, and witnessed fatigue in a man that I never thought would tire. And I saw the raw determination that allowed him to cross the finish line. For this venture, he was joined by two of his close friends and whilst I do not wish to underplay their immense physical and mental strength to also complete the course, I will love them more because they did it with H.

I have no desires to run a marathon or to attempt any of the amazing challenges that H has conquered – when I raise money for charity, this usually involves cake (such as this Sunday's Crafternoon Tea). But, inspired by friends, I have started running. And, inspired by H and others, I have started running further. More importantly, these wonderful people have encouraged me to try, just to give it a try. Literally one foot in front of the other. So what if I tire: I can walk; I can phone for help. I'm not immune to the threat of injury but I won't let the possibility over-shadow my life (although, since breaking my wrist playing football, I haven't played a whole lot more). I cannot thank them enough for giving me the confidence to do this.

And this has filtered into other aspects of my life: I'm about to release my very first knitting pattern for sale. I've worked with the brilliant - and inspiriing - tech editor, Amelia Hosdon, and just need to complete the final step of listing it on Ravelry. Of course, it would be wonderful if it sold – even once! Can you imagine how fantastic it would be if I sold enough to cover the costs of production? Or even enough to repeat the process again?

With both my boys now at school, I'm starting a new phase of my life, with daytimes open to new possibilities. It's only week two and already I'm trying new things – not swimming through lakes (especially not without a wet suit!) or jumping through fire – but activities that I probably wouldn't have tried without seeing you and others do it first. So thank you. Not just to H, D and L for their Spartan-Wonderfullness or my fellow-knitters for sharing their inspiring and beautiful creations - in person and by photo - but for your friendship, interest and support: You are my inspiration; I am a better person because of you.

Let me start by being completely upfront with you: The occurrence of magazine appearing through my letter box wasn't entirely random as I've had the great pleasure of knowing and working with the Craft Network's Knitting Assistant, Freddie Patmore, ever since she proved to be my Knightess in Shining Anchor Artistic Metallic just before a Christmas workshop a number of years ago (four? Five?). Freddie is brilliant: A superb crafter - both practically and technically – an excellent teacher and enthusiast, and an all round lovely person - all elements, it turns out, that you can find in the new magazine.

Colour is given a key role throughout the magazine, varying from bright and bold, to more sublime shades with a vintage feel to warm neutrals. You know me well enough not to be overly-enthused by the very bold (sorry, Freddie) but I admit that they were cleverly used in the "Yarns to love!" section to demonstrate stitch definition.

As a knitting and crochet tutor, I loved the prominence given to their own workshops (pages 6 and 27) and imagine that it would be a huge treat to spend a day at Craft Network Home's HQ – let alone experience the large range of subjects that they offer. The likes of us "up north" could catch the sleeper or take the first train out to make the 10am start (though with the latter, we may be few mins late), and it's great to have another series of fab workshops to add into the mix. I hear London has one or two yarn shops of its own, so there's probably ample to do, say you want to spend a night or two away from home.I enjoyed the article about 'Frank and Olive' – not least as it allowed me to be "in the know" at a recent meeting – and I'm even tempted to crochet the bunting (I do love a bit of bunting). I loved the mood boards in "The Sketchbook" and the photography - particularly that in the "Staying Neutral" section of "The Lookbook". The patterns are clearly written with clear instructions for every stage of the process – including the lining (often omitted elsewhere). "My logbook" on the final page of the magazine really appeals to me – with designated spaces for the tension square and photograph of the completed item. Yes, I know we have Ravelry but yarn is an inherently tactile medium and there's something rather lovely about not only being able to view but also squige the fabric of project's past.Sometimes it can be the almost throw-away comments that touch base: It seems that 706 of you have been brave enough to share your stashes with #flashyourstash and a mighty fine collection there is too. In fact, the invitations to join in are numerous: Sharing your good knitting reads (#bestbookever), a photo of your completed project on FB, or images of yourself arm knitting (#armknitselfie). Clearly the cable knit-effect ceramic jar deserves a place in my home (page 10) and I might even be tempted to buy the "Woman’s Weekly Guide to Crochet" if I was guaranteed to create the featured, gorgeous throw.Of course, the crucial question is whether or not I would buy this myself – and maybe I would. I'm interested to see if and how, over time, the magazine evolves. I have no doubt that in its current form, it'll quickly generate an interested and loyal readership – but I'm going to guess that their average age is at least one decade less than mine (and perhaps even two). A lot of consideration will have been given to featuring a twenty-something, crochet designer and blogger and her best friend in their opening issue; a crochet partnership known for their big, bold designs with an almost childish naivety – making them ideal for teenage and parent crafters alike. I'm not so vain as to suggest that just because a particular design style doesn't resonate with me, it shouldn't exist – may I refer you to my article on arm knitting – and given their wide-ranging appeal and new collaborations with the likes of Patons, their success is to be genuinely celebrated. And perhaps this is the key advantage of this magazine, a real positive that the likes of I haven’t (yet) fallen head over heels in love with it. Perhaps it fills a niche left by the likes of "The Knitter" and Rowan magazines? "Love to knit & crochet" is fun. It's completely on trend with timely articles, patterns inspired by current fashion styles and fun accessories and other yarn-related niceties. Put that way, there is nothing surprising or unexpected about the reaction from a nearly forty-year old, Rowan die-hard. It's certainly a great magazine: Well written, well thought out, well researched - just it's probably not for me all of the time. But I shan't stop looking. I enjoyed all the time I spent with "Love to knit & crochet" – and am very grateful for the opportunity to meet the newest – and coolest – mag on the crafting block.